


Basket Case

by confusednerdling



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Panic Attacks, Post 3x01, spoilers for 3x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusednerdling/pseuds/confusednerdling
Summary: Prompt: “Nicole telling Waverly that she thinks she might be a survivor of a cult” + “Wynonna trying to calm Nicole down instead of Waverly”





	Basket Case

Nicole stumbles into the homestead. The night spent killing vampires was fun and all, but there’s something _wrong_ with Nicole. Something wrong. It’s like her memories are distorted, are blurry and that damn symbol is in her head. It’s rooting around in her head and it’s pulling up images, triggering things. It’s like someone inserted these horrible things in her, but she knows that not possible. No. She’s always had these horrible things. These horrible memories. But why is she only remembering them now?

She stumbles into the homestead and she’s having trouble breathing. She thinks she might be having another panic attack. Because, killing the vampires sure was fun, but she saw blood splattered against Wynonna’s fair skin, the word “survivor” weighs heavy on her lips, and that symbol is back, rummaging around in her head.

Images of carnage. Feelings of panic and anger and fear. It’s rushing into her like it’s happening again. It’s all happening again, and Nicole wants to scream.

But she doesn’t. She grits her teeth together like she’s in physical pain, and she stumbles into the homestead.

“Waverly?” she whispers. Because the lights are on. Because there are shoes by the door. Because someone’s here. She blinks. “Waverly?” Her voice even sounds different. It sounds wrong, strained.

“Haught? That you? You don’t sound so – “ But Wynonna stops talking when she sees her. “Jesus fucking Christ, Haught. You look like a zombie,” And it’s a joke. It’s a joke, but there’s no humor in her voice. There’s just concern, fear. And when Nicole doesn’t say anything snarky back, when Nicole just wobbles a little as she tries to hold herself up by she can’t breathe and the whole house is spinning and there are black spots on her vision and everywhere she looks she sees the symbol, Wynonna knows something is wrong.

Wynonna catches Nicole before she falls and guides her to the floor. “Whoa there, Nicole,” And it must have been the soft way she said Nicole’s name, but Nicole can hear another person’s voice in her head. Another person calling her name. Another woman, soft and sweet and worried. Her mother. Her mother’s voice was in her head and there was carnage and blood and gore in her eyes and she wanted to cry but she couldn’t because she couldn’t breathe.

“Nicole. Hey, Nicole. Focus on me. Okay? Focus on me,” Wynonna says, and she grips Nicole’s shoulders tightly. And it’s strong enough to leave bruises on Nicole come morning, but it’s grounding. It lets Nicole feel something other than the utter dread and panic that’s pumping through her.

“Nicole. Hey, what’s going on? What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“I…don’t…” But Nicole can’t finish her thought because everything is too much. Two words feel like two miles and her heart is combusting and she shakes her head in response and she feels Wynonna’s grip, strong and steadying.

“Well, whatever it is, nothing’s here. Okay? It’s just us. Cause Waverly went to get food. So it’s just me and you and Peacemaker. Whatever shit that happened, it can’t get to us in here. Okay? You’re safe. You’re perfectly safe,”

“Bulshar…” Nicole manages to say. “It…The massacre…” And tears are spilling from her eyes.

“The cult massacre shit messed you up, huh?” Wynonna says, reading her eyes. “Look, in and out. Okay. Mimic my breathing,”

Nicole closes her eyes. She knows to inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for eight. That was what her therapist had said. But when Nicole closes her eyes and tries to think about _why_ she had gotten a therapist in the first place, her mind is flooded with thoughts and memories and feelings that were overwhelming and strong.

“Stay here,” Wynonna dashes up for a second. And Nicole misses her tethering grip. Nicole misses the feeling of comfort, the sound of Wynonna’s voice, because she’s dragged from the present in her mind to flashes of the past. That damn image. That damn symbol. That damn panic.

And then Wynonna is back, sitting in front of her, cross-legged with a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Wanna a sip?”

And Nicole takes it and chugs, because she might not be able to breathe, to think, to feel, but she can drink. And she does.

“Goddamn! Slow down, Haught!” Wynonna snatches it. And Nicole’s throat is burning and it feels good. And she’s still crying and she’s still shaking, but she’ll feel numb soon, feel detached.

Wynonna takes a swig before she hands it back to Nicole. And it takes a moment of passing the bottle back and forth before Nicole’s panic attack has stopped. Now, she just sits there, numb and buzzed and throat burning and tears falling and hands shaking, but she can breathe now. She can control her breathing now. She’s in control now.

Just not of her own thoughts. Of her own memories. Of her own experiences. Of her own life.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

Nicole closes her eyes tight and takes another long sip. She wishes she could just disappear. Just fade out of existence and let this horrible nightmare come to an end. But she hears Wynonna’s voice and she cracks her eyes open.

“What’s going on, Haught? I’ve never seen you like this,”

“I used to have panic attacks a lot,” Nicole says. And her mouth feels weird like someone shoved a punch of cotton balls in it and tried to get her to swallow. She feels weird. She feels weird. And she tries to wipe the tears with her palm but they’re still falling so she takes another swig, cringes as it burns through her, and elects to ignore the tears. “I had to go to a therapist after I failed my psych eval to get on the force,”

“What?” Wynonna flinches. “You failed that shit? You’re like the most stable person I know. You’re a rock,” And Wynonna takes the bottle and lifts it up to her own lips. She lowers the bottle and whispers, “Fuck. So what happened?”

“That’s the thing,” Nicole laughs a little mirthlessly. “I can’t remember. Isn’t that the fucking stupidest thing you’ve ever hear?” And she’s laughing even harder now. And the tears are falling from her eyes. “I’m fucked up and I can’t even remember the thing that fucked me up. It’s just so fucking stupid. It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid,” And Nicole digs her nails into her head as the laughter roars through her, rips through her, tears through her throat, her mouth, her body. Until it’s all gone. Until it leaves her hollow and empty. She looks up at Wynonna slowly, tears rolling down her cheeks, eyes red and puffy.

And Wynonna stares back, carefully still, holding the bottle with an iron grip, and there’s fear and concern and worry in those eyes.

“Wynonna,” Nicole sounds lost, defeated, quiet, broken. “Wynonna, I’m losing my fucking mind,”

“Nicole, you’re not – “

“I can’t remember things that I should remember. It’s like I shoved it so deep down that I can’t get to it. But now it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter, Wynonna, because it’s starting to come up but I can’t control it,” Nicole bites her lip hard, trying to stifle the sob that causes her to cave in slightly. “We’re going after Bulshar. And there’s something about him and his fucking cult that has to do with me. And I can’t even remember. What if it can help you? What if the memories can help you? And if I can help you get Bulshar, w-we can get Alice back. What if I have the memory that can help us get Alice back? O-Or what if…” Nicole’s mouth opens and closes for a solid minute before she grabs Wynonna’s hand, and Wynonna flinches but she doesn’t move. “Wynonna,” Nicole hisses. “What if I was a member of the cult? What if I was a member and I just don’t fucking remember? What if I’m a bad person and I don’t even remember?”

“Hey, hey! You’re spiraling, Haught,” Wynonna snaps. “Look at me. Hey, look at me,”

And Nicole tried to look, but everywhere she saw it. The symbol. Popping in and out of her vision. She felt nauseous.

“Nicole. Your name is Nicole Haught. You’re a pain in the ass. You’re a fucking narc. You like button-down shirts and you love the color blue. You’re a cat person. You’re in love with my sister. You’re a police officer and you volunteer for kids and you’re weirdly friends with like everyone in town. You’re practically Nedley’s surrogate daughter. You’re a giant lesbian. You have red hair, and you’re probably one of the best people I know. Okay? That’s who you are. Okay? You’re not evil. Not even if it turns out you were a brainwashed cultist, because that person isn’t the person I’m sitting in front of. Okay?”

“Okay,” Nicole nods.

“Okay,” Wynonna takes a deep breath. “You’ll remember eventually, Nicole, but you won’t if you keep beating yourself up. Now, you should sleep this shit off. You’re kind of a lightweight, Haught,”

Nicole nods. Sleep would be good. Sleep would be really good. Maybe she’ll forget about all of this in the morning. Maybe it’ll all just disappear. Maybe things will go back to normal.

“Don’t tell Waves,” Nicole says.

“Haught, you know I can’t – “

“I want to tell her. Alright? I want to tell her,”

Wynonna waits a moment before nods reluctantly.

“Thank you,” Nicole says and there are tears welling up in her eyes. “You know, Earp, you’re my best friend,”

“Oh God, you’re so drunk,” Wynonna sighs exasperated. “Just shut up. Okay. And get up, Haughtstuff. You weigh a ton,”

\---

Getting Nicole to bed isn’t too easy, but Nicole falls asleep quickly, curling into the bonus blankets and letting the weight of the world slip off her shoulders. But if she thought she could escape her mind in sleep, she was mistaken.

The nightmares come fast and ready as if they knew exactly when to prey on her. They left her shuddering, mumbling, and then she was awake, a scream barreling out of her mouth, and frantic hands grabbing at her.

“Nicole! Nicole! Are you okay?”

Nicole tries to catch her breath. She tries to catch her breath, but she’s panting, and the memories are leaving her, going back into the dark recesses of her mind only to come out again when she’s vulnerable. She tries to catch her breath and she stares at the wall until she can hear Waverly’s voice again.

“Baby?” And Waverly sounds so close to tears. “Are you alright?”

“We…” Nicole wipes the sweat off her face. God, she needs a shower. “Waverly, can you make me some tea?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Waverly jumps up and out of bed. “Okay. Um, did you have a – “

“I’ll explain in a second. I just…” Nicole motions vaguely to her current state and with a tentative nod Waverly exits the room, letting Nicole just collapse into herself.

She clutches her, digging her fingers into her sides, rocking back and forth. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

\---

Nicole carefully walks down the stairs, slowly, making sure to step on all the right pieces of wood so it doesn’t creak. She’s learned that when she started dating Waverly – knowing exactly how to sneak out of the house without anyone knowing. But she doesn’t plan to sneak out, she just wants to be unheard, because she can hear murmuring coming from the kitchen.

“ – should have seen her, babygirl. I mean, full on breakdown,” she can hear Wynonna’s voice.

“God. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She wanted to tell you!”

“She was drunk and asleep when I got home!”

“Well… I thought she would wake up and tell you… Look, I was trying to help. Don’t get all pissy with me,”

“I know. I know. But, ‘Nonna, that’s my _girlfriend_ up there. I love her, ‘Nonna. I love her so much, and to see her like this…. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how to help,”

“Maybe just listen,” Nicole speaks up. And the two Earps flinch. Hard

“Jesus, Haught, you nearly made me shit myself,” Wynonna not-so-tactfully shouts out, gripping her chest.

“Sorry,” Nicole says.

“No, baby. It’s fine. Just sit down,” Waverly urges. “Look, I made you tea,” She pushes it forward and Nicole feels a little like a kid. Like a kid who just wants to be protected and safe.

Nicole sits down and she feels sheepish and awkward in her skin and the Earps are staring at her with big, curious eyes.

“The cult…” Nicole takes a big deep breath. “The cult of Bulshar takes part in a series of very intense, horrendous massacres,”

“I know, baby. You told us at the crime scene. They’re put out on display. They’re are never any survivors,”

“Well,” Nicole interjects. “That’s the thing… I think… I think I might be a survivor of the cult of Bulshar,”

And there is silence for a long moment, and Nicole sees Wynonna’s hand slowly reach for Waverly’s grounding her the same way Nicole had to be grounded.

“I keep…” Nicole exhales, shakily. “I keep having these memories. Like pulsing, horrible memories. Of, um, a massacre, but the thing is… Well, the thing is I’ve never seen pictures of this massacre that I keep seeing. And these memories aren’t of the same one we saw today which makes me think… Which makes me think I’ve seen it before. Actually, physically seen it and was there. And there are gaps… There are gaps in my memory that I just can’t put my finger on. And that symbol… I remember that. I saw that…” Nicole feels like she might vomit. She puts a hand to her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s okay, baby,” Waverly whispers. She takes Nicole’s hand. “It’s going to be okay,”

Nicole shakes her head again. And she’s crying again. And she doesn’t know why but she’s overwhelmed and crying again. She should have never had said anything. She should have kept it to herself. She’s crazy. She’s crazy. She’s crazy. And Waverly holds her tighter and then Nicole feels another hand on her – Wynonna’s hand.

“You’re family, Haught. Okay? Do you hear me? We’re not letting that shit ticket ever touch you,” Wynonna says gruffly. “No one is ever going to hurt you again,”

“And we’ll find out what happened. I mean, I’m the best researcher in Purgatory. Right, baby? You said that. I’ll figure it out. _We’ll_ figure it out, but, baby, you aren’t alone. Okay? You got me and Wynonna and Jeremy and Dolls and Doc. You aren’t alone,” And Waverly squeezes her hand.

“T-Thank you. I-I’m sorry about – “

“No! Don’t apologize!” Waverly says. “You’ve done nothing wrong,”

“I’m-m not alone,” Nicole repeats, mainly to herself. And she thinks of Doc and his moustache and love of hats and dynamite. And she thinks of Dolls and the fact that he trusts her, that he gave the files and helps her. She thought of Jeremy and his pop culture references and printed shirts. She thinks of Waverly and her sweet laugh and her caring eyes and her amazing lips and biceps. She thinks of Wynonna and her magic gun and her love of whiskey and snark. Nicole’s not alone.

She has to remind herself of that. In the memories, she’s always alone, surrounded in bodies, in blood, in chaos. But she’s not alone now. She’s not alone. 

“I’m going to get you some water,” Waverly stands up. “Cold water. It helps with panic attacks and anxiety. I’ll be right back,” She dashes out and, as she does, the moment she is out of earshot, Nicole can feel Wynonna’s grip tighten.

“Nicole, listen to me. You listening?”

Nicole nods.

“I’m going to find Bulshar, and I’m going to fucking kill him. And I’m going to get my daughter back. I’m going to break the curse. And I’m going to free you from this shit and end it. Okay?”

Nicole nods.

“And when I do, when I blow his head off and send him into the pits of Hell, I want you by my side. Okay?”

Nicole looks up. And she sees fire in Wynonna’s eyes. And she sees anger and ferocity. And she sees pain. And she sees her friend underneath it all, protected by it all. She sees Wynonna, raw and anger and bitter and ready.

“You and me,” Wynonna says. “We’re going to fucking end this,”

And Nicole takes a deep breath, tears still streaming, grits her teeth, and nods as she growls, “Gladly,”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this wasn’t supposed to be so angsty but whoops I couldn’t help it. Hope you like it! 
> 
> If you have a Wayhaught prompt or a Wynhaugt brOTP prompt, please hit me up! I love them so much and need more because I’m starting to run out.


End file.
